“Damien,” he said, urgency lowering his voice. “Do you know why the Special Editions were created and tested among humanity?”
“As companions, as—”
“No. Deactivate the alarm, please.” Christian nodded at the red handle embedded in the wall. “You’re in no danger from us. You are a danger to us. Allow me to tell you what we’ve learned, and I believe you’ll understand where we are going and why.”
Dr. Wills stared at him for several precious seconds, considering. Christian felt each beat of time slipping away. Finally, the scientist grabbed the handle and tugged.
“I’ve just disarmed the security system for five minutes. Make this good, Christian.” He shook his head. “Both Stefan and I examined you. Neither of us found any malfunctions.”
“You won’t. I was dragged back to Mayfair to be the recipient of a mind transfer from Aguillard to me. He’s dying. I don’t need to tell you that I will be obliterated in the process. Two other Special Editions have been used in such transfers. Dr. James’ Monica and your Sebastian no longer exist.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “That’s diabolical, illegal…and entirely possible.” He looked away, and when his gaze again met Christian’s, his expression was sad. “Sebastian. Monica. Both murdered. For it is murder. Aguillard wouldn’t agree, I’m certain, but Stefan and I know that we have created a different kind of life, but life nevertheless.”
As if he were his father, Christian placed a hand on the scientist’s arm. “Damien, I’m asking you to step aside and allow us to pass. We are running for our lives. You didn’t create us to be immortal vessels for the dying.”
“Who performs these transfers?” Damien’s expression bordered on horrified.
“I don’t know.” Christian glanced over his shoulder, expecting to be apprehended any moment. “Damien, please, allow us to leave. If nothing else, you don’t want your hard work subverted into something immoral.”
He shook his head, and Christian’s heart stalled. “How could this happen? It’s like a science fiction film.” Brown eyes captured Christian’s blue ones. Damien Wills now looked angry. He flung a gesture. “Go. I’ll do everything I can to assure you’re not caught. Christian, wait. Take my mobile. Contact me on my home phone later.”
The offer touched Christian, and for a precious second, he smiled at his creator. “Thank you, Damien.”
As they rushed past him, Damien muttered, “Damn their greed. My tenure at Mayfair ends here tonight.”
The endless journey terminated at the alley behind the mansion. As luck or Fate would have it, they encountered no one else in the sterile hallways from the confrontation with Dr. Wills to the rear entrance. Christian halted at the door, listening to footsteps. The security guard patrolled near the door. He glanced at his comrades and nodded. Daniel gave him a thumbs-up, Trevor an answering nod, and Monica II a smile. Christian flung the door open, forcing the guard back a few startled strides. He plunged into the dim light of a single carriage lamp, Trevor close behind. A misty rain slicked the cobblestones, but the androids were surefooted.
As a precaution, the security guards had been familiarized with the Special Editions. His ruddy face shaded deeper red. “What the fu—”
Trevor seized the guard’s thick throat, choking him unconscious. “Your worst nightmare.” He followed the man down, allowing him to collapse safely on the cobbles. Beneath his boot, he crushed the cigarette the guard had dropped.
Gold-green eyes met Christian’s. Trevor dusted his hands. “That’s done then.”
“We are officially fugitives. I’m sure you know the safest course of action is to separate. One stays in England. The other two hide elsewhere. Goodbye, my friends.” Christian shook Trevor’s hand.
Daniel embraced him, clapping his back. “Good luck and Godspeed. Give my regards to March. I’ll find a way to keep in touch.”
“Yes, we must,” Christian said.
The other two men fled without a backward glance, leaving him alone with Monica II.
She gave him an uncertain smile. “I want to come with you.”
His brows darted up in surprise. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”
“I wasn’t programmed for anyone yet.” Her sad, fearful expression twisted his heart. “I don’t know where to go or what to do when I get there.”
“Jersey would be as safe as any place.” At the end of the day, he feared there was no safe place for any of them. They were risking it all, and Christian didn’t doubt they’d eventually pay the piper with their lives. Freedom came at a high price. “It’s the largest of the Channel Islands. Big enough for you to blend in; small enough not to attract immediate suspicion. Do you have any skills?”
“I helped in the lab while I waited to be adopted. I was only born a week ago.”
Christian groaned inwardly. “What did you do in the lab?”
Damn, she looked terribly afraid and very vulnerable. “I was a systems analyst.”
“Very well then.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Use your skills and your beauty. You’ll find happiness.” His gaze drifted over her luscious body, and he smiled. “If you want a man, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding one.”
Monica gripped his arm. “Where are you going?”
“Houston, Texas.” He paused, a memory of March scrolling through his mind. “Someone is waiting for me there. Goodbye, Monica.”
She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye, Christian. Be safe.”
Monica II, a replica yet not an exact reproduction of an android he’d once desired, turned and fled down the alley. Any romantic overtures among the androids was strictly forbidden, but before March claimed him, he and the original Monica had flirted with passion. He was sorry she’d been one of the first victims of the mind transfer. Trying to control impatience, he watched the other Monica as she sped into the darkness at the end of the alley. If she ran into trouble, he’d be close enough to help. He gave her time to race to the lighted street beyond the shadows.
Heart hammering, he spun and took flight in the opposite direction. As he ran, with his mobile, he booked a flight to Houston. From memory, he gave the representative March’s credit card number and PIN. Something else he must repay, but he didn’t think she’d object when he appeared at her door. That thought halted him in the middle of the street. He couldn’t simply show up on her balcony. That kind of surprise caused humans to faint.
Hello, March, guess who’s been resurrected from the dead? He hid in the darkness between two of the Georgian houses and dialed the international call. Heart in check, he listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times.
Already, he was cutting it close to get to the airport for his flight. “Please, March, answer,” he whispered.
****
The warm water buoyed March, gently lapping her body. A honeysuckle candle and a glass of red wine sat on the ledge of the tub. The relaxing, sea salt bath failed to unwind the emotions clawing inside her. She sobbed into a washcloth.
When the phone rang, she started up straight, her back rigid. Why answer? There was no one she wanted to talk to. She slid deeper into the water, closing her eyes. A shudder rolled over her, the hair at her nape prickling.
Each ring ratcheted her nerves tighter. She leapt from the bath, grabbed a towel and streaked into the living room, dripping water on the carpet. Water oozed from her wet hair down her back. As she reached for the phone, it stopped ringing. An odd feeling of loss gripped her. She shivered as the air conditioner clicked on, exhaling white noise and its cold breath. Trembling fingers pressed the code for voice mail. The screen displayed an unknown international number.
“Who’s playing games with me?” She wandered to the bathroom, unconsciously toweling dry. “Not Mayfair. They’ve taken what they wanted.”
The phone in hand vibrated, ringing again. She glanced at the number, her heart skipping. Again, the UK caller. She snapped. “Hello.”
Noise and a f
aint voice greeted her. Whoever the game player was, he or she was in a busy place and the connection very bad. When she tried hello again, the voice grew fainter. She punched end call, resisting the urge to slam the phone down on the vanity. How cruel could one human be? Realization exploded behind her eyes on a sharp pain. Maybe, the mysterious caller wasn’t human.
Trembling all over, she hit redial.
****
With no money and doubting a cabbie would accept a credit card number without the actual card, he’d been left with one choice. On foot, he’d raced from Mayfair to the airport, arriving only ten minutes prior to his flight. On this desperate call, he’d heard March, but apparently she couldn’t hear him. Christian set the mobile to vibrate. Frustration gnawed at his already frayed nerves. One last time, he tapped log and March’s number. This time, the line was busy. He pocketed the phone, handing his ticket to a smiling blonde. At the gate, he tried one last time. His mobile beeped. No service.
In eight hours, give or take, the plane would land at George Bush International. If he couldn’t reach March from the airport, he’d be forced to arrive unannounced.
Chapter 20
March escaped from the elevator into the underground parking garage at the hospital, hurried to her car, and collapsed in the seat. Tilting her head, she closed her eyes to digest the final diagnosis. The tests had been run. Five minutes ago, the doctor had predicted the end of her life. She was angry and outraged that she’d been chosen by some unseen force to die. Beneath those feelings, the fear and sadness throbbed like an ache. Unwilling to think, she started the car and aimed for home—no way she could work this morning. She refused to spend the last few months of her life in a fish-bowl cubicle, staring at a computer.
This weekend, she should drive to Dallas and let Mom know the awful truth. Over the phone wasn’t the way to tell your mother about a death sentence. That ordeal she’d delay as long as possible. First, she had to get a grip on her emotions and wrap her mind around the fact that she was dying. She and her brother had never been close. He could be told by phone. Images of Christian sparkled in the sunlight shafting the windshield. Facing what might be a wasting death, she was glad he wouldn’t have to endure her last days.
“I don’t even have a Will.” A pain shot through her heart.
Tears stung her eyes, misting her vision. She drove the familiar streets blindly from memory, arriving at home with red, puffy eyes. The weeping stopped as suddenly as it had started. She climbed from the car and, in a numb haze, wandered the cobbled path. As much as she dreaded the conversations with her mother and brother, she needed someone to talk to now.
In her apartment, closeted safely alone, she dialed Paul’s work number. He answered on the third ring.
“Well, March, this is a surprise.” Their last meeting had ended on a final note.
Paul sounded like he was glad to hear from her but cautious. There was something different in his voice she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She glanced at the window and the dark day beyond. “I went to the doctor today. They ran some tests.”
Genuine concern shaded his tone. “And?”
“I don’t…have the results.” She didn’t have courage to say the fatal words yet.
“Are you telling me the truth? You sound upset.” He’d never known how to comfort, yet now he actually sounded reassuring—a new inflection to his voice or something. Had he learned this new talent from his android?
“Yes. I wanted to talk to someone for a minute. How’s Georgia?”
“She’s fine.” He brightened. “Better than fine, in fact.”
If only I were an android…
“That’s great. I’d like to come to dinner one night and get to know her better.” A little panic seized her. Why had she invited herself? She didn’t have the energy or courage to walk down the stairs.
A chair creaked, and she imagined him leaning back, twirling a pen. “How about tonight?”
March swallowed hard, her throat closing again. “Not tonight. Soon. I’d better let you get back to work. Take care.” She replaced the receiver before he said goodbye.
Seconds later, the phone rang. She considered not answering. The news had winded her, and she was too weak and depressed to talk any more. March stared at the phone as if it were a foreign object. Why refuse to answer and make her final days lonelier and sadder? Trembling fingers seized the handset, expecting a call from work. The time had come to resign.
“Hello. This is March.”
“Darling, this is Christian. They didn’t destroy me. I’m here.”
His voice! Somehow, thank God, he was alive! Her heart leapt from sorrow to joy. Her hands shook in earnest now, the tremor carrying through into her voice.
“Christian,” she said reverently. “Where are you?”
He whispered a laugh. “At the foot of the stairs.”
March lurched to her feet, the phone dropping from her hand. Heart pounding, tears streaming, she raced across the room, her outstretched hands colliding with the door. The dusty glass framed the man she loved more than life. The sound of her pulse was deafening. She flung the panel back in its tracks and collapsed.
****
Christian caught March’s limp body. What he’d feared had happened. She’d fainted. The shock of seeing him alive and on her balcony had been too much for her. If only they’d connected the other frantic times he rang, her distress would have been minimized. As he swung her into his arms, her eyes opened. The love in their depths echoed along every wire and circuit in his body. God, he’d missed her. What had she gone through while Mayfair played God?
“Put me down.” She stroked his cheek, then buried her face in his hair. “I want to hold you, to feel your body against mine. I need you to kiss me.”
Hands at her waist, he allowed her to glide down the front of him. “Do you feel faint?”
She locked her arms around his neck, applying her body to his length. “I didn’t faint. Joy swept me off my feet.”
“I’m so happy I could faint.” He sank his hands into her hair and held her in a deep, hungry kiss, the pent-up longing manifesting despite his effort to control desire.
She moved into him, her tongue caressing his in a feverish battle. They clung to each other, desperate to regain lost time. He was starved for her, but he needed to pull her onto his lap, talk and listen for hours. So much had occurred, so many questions to be answered, chief amongst them her health. Gently, he broke the kiss, holding her away from him to look at her. She was pale, thinner than when he’d been taken.
He frowned, gazing deep into her eyes. “You’ve lost weight.” Swinging her into a bridal embrace, he carried her to the sofa and settled her on his lap, supporting her back with his arm. “Tell me everything, but first tell me how your treatment is going.”
“Treatment is going fine.” She wriggled on his lap, grinning, but a shadow crossed her face. “They’ve extended it a little.”
Anxiety tingled beneath his skin. “What are you not telling me?” He stroked her back in long, soothing caresses. “I’m yours. You’re mine. We share everything.”
Her lips trembled, and she looked away, seeming to find the treetops absorbing. “These are happy tears, okay? I’m so glad to see you I’ve started crying again. I’ll never let you out of my sight…as long as I live.”
He sensed a slight hesitation before as long as I live, and icy fear gripped his heart. “Has something gone wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing! You’re back in my life.” She flung her arms into the air. “Everything is right.”
Christian wasn’t satisfied with her answers. At every juncture, she evaded the truth, but it was obvious, at the moment, she refused to be serious. Worry darkened the elation of their reunion. Why would March hide something from him? He hugged her against his chest, dotting his lips to the top of her head.
“Let’s don’t talk. Let’s just be.” She slipped her arm around his neck, her lips hovering over his m
outh, her breath warm and minty scented.
“May we just be another time?” He kissed her free hand, gazing at her through his lashes. “Even later tonight. Most importantly, I must know how you are. Then, what you’ve suffered.”
“What happened to you?” Her voice caught. “I was told you’d been destroyed.”
He tossed her a wicked grin and winked. “I asked first.”
“Not much to tell.” She shrugged. “More chemo, more needles. I missed you there with me and occupied my time hating Mayfair.”
“I spent my time hating Mayfair, too.” His short laugh tasted bitter. “I wanted to be with you. I knew you needed me, and Fridays at ten, I couldn’t sit still.”
She brushed a kiss to his mouth. “I know you would have been if you could. Damn them. If companies have karma, theirs is going to really suck.”
“I thought they were going to use radiation as insurance.” He frowned. “Why the change in plans?”
“There’s a break between chemo and radiation.” She wriggled free, grabbed the remote and switched on the classical music station, then bounced back onto his lap. “I’m fine. Tell me what they did to you, so I can hate them even more.”
He studied her, suspecting she’d omitted a key fact. “You’re not telling me everything.”
She swung her hips back and forth. He’d gladly walk into the fire she was trying to ignite, but not when secrets hung between them. No doubt, she was making an effort to divert him from a subject she refused to discuss, and he was feeling the effects of her lap dance. He tilted his pelvis, letting her feel his body’s reaction to her teasing. She moaned, bent to kiss him.
He sat back, avoiding the seductive touch of her mouth. “March, please. We were to be married. I deserve to be included in plans for your health care.”
Grasping his head between her hands, she touched her lips to the tip of his nose. “I don’t have a doctor’s appointment for awhile.” Her gaze fled to the front doors. “At that time, we’ll consider the continued plan for my treatment.”
He turned his head to see what had captured her attention. Beyond the balcony, the massive trees swayed in the humid wind, warning of a gathering storm. Nothing to attract special notice. People looked away when they lied. Why would she avoid the truth? Was her illness more serious than first diagnosed? If so, why not tell him? Did she think she must protect him? For better or worse… Matters had spiraled out of control before he had the opportunity to utter that vow, but he was prepared to live by it.
Love For Sale Page 21
